


Where the lines overlap

by Malefiquinn



Category: Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 5
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:00:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22259110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malefiquinn/pseuds/Malefiquinn
Summary: The line between enemy and something else blurs when John finds Deputy Grant sneaking into his ranch.(For the FC5 Holiday Exchange 2019 on Tumblr)
Relationships: Male Deputy | Judge/John Seed
Comments: 2
Kudos: 105





	Where the lines overlap

**Author's Note:**

> This is my gift for the Far Cry 5 Holiday Exchange 2019 for [fsocietydotdat](https://fsocietydotdat.tumblr.com/). As such, it features his Deputy Grant Dyer. All credit for the OC is his <3
> 
> Big thanks to my beta [outranks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/outranks/) for fixing my non-native-English-speaker grammar.
> 
> Enjoy!

When Pastor Jerome suggested he help the Ryes, Grant didn't expect it would involve reclaiming a plane from the private property of the Seeds themselves. Why couldn't it be like when he had befriended Sharky or Grace, just fighting waves of peggies or angels until they stopped?

Okay, maybe not angels; angels were creepy. But that was beyond the point.

Be that as it may, the Deputy promised Nick he would get the plane back—because frankly, the Resistance could always use more help—and he threw together a plan to dive into the belly of the beast. John Seed's house, no less.

Sneaking past the first cultists he saw, Grant approached the ranch from the west; the vegetation offered enough cover for him to get close to the building without being noticed. When breaking into a Seed's house on his own, Grant preferred to have the element of surprise with him for as long as possible.

And so, as silently as he could, the Deputy neared the ranch's wall, his back against the sturdy wood as he listened for movement. None came and he advanced parallel to it until he met a window and checked it. Unfortunately, that one was locked, but the next one offered a small opening for him to climb through. It was, perhaps, easier to cover the amount of ground that separated him from the hangar through the house, and he doubted the peggies were allowed to patrol from the inside as well.

Once his mind was made, Grant pushed the window open and jumped inside, crouching as soon as he was back on the ground. The room was larger than he expected, and he quickly discovered that his best options were either advancing next to the walls or getting cover behind the large chimney.

His second discovery came soon after, in the form of a voice. "I was hoping you'd come."

Grant froze. Clutching his gun closely, he turned around to find none other than John Seed occupying one of the dining chairs, a smug smile on his lips. He rose slowly and raised both hands, as if trying to show that he posed no threat to the Deputy, and walked around the table to expose his whole body to him and show he had no weapons strapped to his legs either. That gave time for Grant to take in his appearance: from the rich blue shirt underneath a dark colored vest and similar colored pants to the dark brown hair and beard that framed his beautiful, sapphire eyes. It was as if the colors in the room radiated from him. From the extensive amount of tattoos that adorned the skin of his arms, and the patterns he craved to trace with his fingertips...

_Shit. Focus._

He’d known how handsome John was ever since the night of the arrest, which he—unfortunately—noticed again as he watched that video of Hudson and his followers, but now, up close and in the daylight, it was even harder to deny his good looks. And maybe the way his mind went was obvious on his face, for John's smile became softer. 

"I've been waiting for this," John continued. "For the moment I got to talk to you. Alone."

Grant also noticed his tone, a forced casualness over a quiet pitch to prevent the cultists outside from noticing his presence, and he wondered why didn't John call for reinforcements when those were just a few walls away.

Lowering his gun just barely, he took a step closer, though he stayed on alert for any sudden movements. "Why?"

"Joseph says you're a snake in our garden, but I'm not sure about that. I _refuse_ to believe that. I think you're here to help us, whether you know it or not. God must be working through you as much as He's working through my brother."

Grant scoffed at that. "And you expect me to believe you want me on your side when I _saw_ your little video of Hudson?"

"I admit, I wanted your interest," John sighed.

"You have a twisted way of doing it, then."

For reasons Grant couldn't place, his heart twisted painfully in his chest as he saw the hurt in John's eyes.

"I'm sorry, Deputy. I didn't mean to cause you pain."

He didn't know how to answer that. It wasn’t like he woke up expecting an apology from John Seed that morning. He opened his mouth to say something else, but closed it again when the words escaped him, and the silence stretched out uncomfortably between them. Just as heavy as the gun in Grant's hand. It was obvious that John had no intention of attacking him, he only needed to call on his followers outside if he did, and now he felt out of place by still clutching it so tightly.

Still, it would be foolish to forget how dangerous any of the Seeds were. So, to fill the quiet, his thoughts wandered through his knowledge of them and their Project, and finally settled on one of the most stupid memories he had. Grant tried to stifle a laugh.

John looked at him, both brows raised.

"Sorry," Grant echoed, shaking his head. "Just remembered... Well, Sharky says that the reason you're interested in me is because you wanna fuck me, and that I should take my chances and jump you if I'm ever alone with you. Basically like this," he gestured around with his free hand, and then laughed again, more freely this time.

John smirked at that, but there was no mischief in his expression when he spoke. "That so? Smart man."

Grant blinked several times. Sharky was many things, even brilliant in his own, deranged, way, but nobody would ever call him plain _smart_ like that. It just wasn't—

_Wait_.

"You... want to bone me?" he asked, incredulous.

John took his time to answer, which felt awfully longer as Grant's heart picked up his pace. "I find you attractive, Deputy. And it amazes me what you can do on your own, even when it means going against what we're doing. You're a force to be reckoned with and I... wanted to catch your attention."

"What th— hold on, you were _flirting with me_?!"

There was a vulnerability to John that he had never seen before when he said, "I knew you'd never look at me otherwise. It was better to have your hatred than your indifference."

Grant's mouth fell open.

"I— you— what?!"

"I guess you can say I'm bad at flirting."

Grant's heartbeat raced in his chest, the deafening noise making him close his eyes. Feelings and instinct played tug of war with him, trying, and failing, to remind him that John was his enemy.

" _What the fuck,_ John," he whispered, more to himself than to the other man.

But he finally lowered his weapon as he took a step towards John. Then another and another, sending his caution packing as he stopped just in front of him and searched his eyes for the hint of a lie. Everyone at Fall's End believed John to be a master manipulator, and Grant had no doubt he surely was, but this time... his reasoning was too absurd to be anything but the truth.

Though he also had to admit he _wanted_ it to be true.

It was wrong. So, so wrong to stare at John’s lips the way he was doing it, to close the gap between them and press his own against that mouth, and yet he did it anyway. He felt John sigh as he moved closer, deepening the kiss and making Grant's knees go weak.

The gun fell unceremoniously to the floor as his hand brushed the nape of John’s neck; the other one tracing the muscles of his back down to his ass and John's hips bucked forwards, embarrassingly uncontrolled.

"Oh," Grant said, rough breath over John's swollen lips. "You _really_ want me."

John smiled, somewhat shyly, at the obvious delight in his voice. "And here I thought that when I called that crazy pyromaniac _smart_ it was enough of a clue for you, Deputy."

"Grant," he corrected him.

"What?"

"My name," he clarified, not bothering to mention how absurd it was that he was kissing a man that didn't know his name until now.

"Beautiful." Grant giggled as John grabbed the collar of his hoodie and dragged him back, stopping right before they touched. "Grant," he breathed reverently, catching his lips and coaxing him to part them to drive his tongue into his mouth. A flash of heat that had nothing to do with the temperature outside settled in his groin and, holding John's ass in place, he ground against him, light and teasing.

Now that Grant knew John wanted him it was hard not giving in completely. So he didn't even bother to try. John broke the kiss in a gasp, his breath hot and delicious over his lips and he rocked again and pressed kisses along his neck, to the tender spot behind his ear, and caught his earlobe between his teeth.

"Love, as mu— _ah_ ," John mumbled, and Grant forced his mind to actually listen beyond the endearing name he had so easily used, "as much as I don't want you to stop, I'm afraid we'll be heard it we keep going like this."

Grant nuzzled his neck. "Then what do you propose?"

John didn't reply immediately, instead moved him away just enough to cup his face. "The bedroom upstairs, actually. If— _ahem_ , if that's what you want."

Grant bit his lower lip, trying to suppress the new wave of arousal those words brought over his body. John asking him permission to bed him was as sweet as it was erotic, and he knew words would fail him if he tried to say anything. So instead, he merely nodded and John's smile illuminated his world as he took his hand to guide him up the stairs, his eyes hot and dark.

They arrived at what Grant supposed was the master bedroom, dominated by a large, king sized bed. John closed the door and it was then that Grant remembered he had left his gun on the floor downstairs, but he didn't feel the need to go back and get it. And it wasn't a lust induced thought either. He trusted John.

And it was probably faster to bolt out of the ranch through the second floor anyway.

Ignoring Grant’s train of thought, John got rid of his shoes and kissed the back of his neck before gently turning him around, then kissed his lips as he nudged him backwards onto the mattress. Grant hummed approvingly when John eased him over the silk sheets—and of course John's bed would have silk sheets—and tugged at the belt that framed the bulge in John's pants.

"My, my, impatient, are we?" John joked, but the words rang hollow as he too divested Grant of his old Converse and cargo shorts in turn. He then kicked his own pants out of the way, clothes falling past the edge of the bed and onto the floor.

He didn't wait for John to take his boxers off and shoved his hand inside the fabric, eliciting a moan from the man as he stroked his erection slowly. John kissed him again while he desperately plucked the buttons of his vest and shirt open, whimpering into his mouth at the need for more.

The rest of his clothes out of the way, John forced himself away from Grant to take the Deputy's glasses and gently placed them on the nightstand, where he also procured a bottle of lube. Grant arched an eyebrow, amused at how prepared he was, but mentioned nothing. His expression, full of promise and want over _his_ pillow, was the most beautiful thing John had ever seen.

"Are you sure?" he managed to ask, but Grant was already throwing his hoodie over his head and invading John's arms, lips tugging his until John felt on fire with how badly he wanted this.

Still, he mindfully wrapped a hand, slippery with lube, around his cock, yanking a delighted moan from him. John squeezed and pulled, creating a tight, unyielding tunnel with his fist, until Grant was thrusting into it, tense as a coil about to give out.

Then John slowed, drawing a whine from Grant's lips at the denial, and quickly being replaced by a surprised gasp as another hand stroked the sensitive skin around his hole before petting it lightly. Then with more pressure.

Grant shivered at the sensation, rivers of pleasure traveling through his whole body. He gripped the sheets beneath him as his other hand found John's shoulder, latching on to it with enough strength to bruise, when a well-lubed finger nudged into his entrance, passing through the resistance to bury itself inside him. Another moan, this time louder, was the reward John received for it.

"You like this?" he asked, eyes dark.

Grant felt his already flushed face turn an even darker shade of red. "Y-yes."

He panted as John added a second and then a third finger, stretching that delicious tightness, taking his time as the Deputy squirmed underneath him. The strokes of one hand aligned with the thrusts of the other, destroying Grant's coherency as waves of ecstasy crashed over him, drowning his senses; he didn't know whether to thrust up or push down.

Grant felt the fire settling in his belly, so, so close to the edge... and then John slowed his movements until, finally, he stopped altogether. But before Grant was able to catch his breath and complain, however, John chased his open lips with his own, sinking his tongue into his willing mouth and igniting the heat inside him again. John groaned into his mouth as Grant sucked his lower lip, his fingers threading through that brown hair, his other hand tracing the hard muscles of his chest.

Breaking the kiss, John rested his forehead against Grant's in an effort to force his breath back into a somewhat regular rhythm. His grin was as love-struck as it was hypnotic, a perfect companion to the softness of his mouth and the solid presence of his body around him. But not a second later his eyes turned feral and all touch was lost until a slender, gentle hand on his hip flipped him over.

"So good for me," John purred as the blunt head grazed his hole, slick with lube, and it set off an electric feeling that began at the base of Grant's spine and traveled up to the top of his skull.

He clutched the silk sheets, face against the pillow as John pushed inside him, the sensation as mortifying as it was delicious. Grant gasped for air, struggling to relax, to accept the intrusion as John's lips lingered between his shoulder blades. The kisses hot and wet and distracting enough to ease the remaining tension from his muscles. John slid in a few more centimeters, filling the tight passage completely.

A startling volt of ecstasy shot up Grant's spine again and he let out a rough whimper.

"Are you okay?" John asked, panting from the effort to keep still.

"Yeah, more than," he assured him. "Just... move a li— there, _ah_!"

The short sound Grant made, fleeting and needy, wiped out everything from John's mind except the thought of coaxing it out of his Deputy's mouth over and over again. He gently drew back and pushed forward, and choked on his next breath as Grant clenched around him hard enough that the sensation threatened to tamper with his self-control. Then Grant released his breath and relaxed again, and John continued his small thrusts.

This was easily the least favorable situation Grant had ever been in. He was at the mercy of his so called enemy, of the dexterous hands pinning his shoulders down and the knees keeping his thighs apart, at the mercy of the cock sliding in and out of him and by God, he wouldn't change anything. He loved that it was John Seed fucking him.

"More," he groaned, bucking up into him.

But to his dismay, the man's rocking slowed into a teasing movement. Grant tried regaining the friction, but John moved back slightly whenever he did. "What was that, Deputy?" John whispered into his ear, the hair of his beard trailing sparks over his cheek.

"John, _please_."

Teeth scraped over his shoulder and he moaned at the pleasure and frustration of denial when John didn't move. He felt more than heard the chuckle against his skin.

"You want more?" he asked, a shallow thrust punctuating his words.

" _Bastard_ ," Grant hissed, the rough pleasure in his voice taking away any venom he might have meant. A soft bite on his shoulder earned John a new groan. "Yes, yes!"

John hissed in anticipation before picking up the pace again, each thrust sparking flames that consumed Grant's body and mind like wildfire, until the was nothing but colors mixing up in abstract patterns behind his eyelids and a sizzling feeling spreading all over him, which brightened and tensed and finally _shattered_.

John fucked him with a profound sense of awe as Grant convulsed and came, screaming against the pillow to prevent the cultists outside from hearing him, utterly lost to the bliss that John was drilling into him. The pleasure of dragging Grant over the edge soon caught up with him and John spilled inside him, forceful and hot, Grant's name on his lips.

Something without form tightened around Grant's throat when John slipped out of him and curled protectively over his back, nuzzling into his sweaty skin and planting featherlike kisses on his neck and shoulders.

He shouldn't have agreed to any of this, he knew, but he couldn't bring himself to care as he brought the soft inside of John's wrist to his lips, pressing them above the planes inked there. With a sigh and a gentle shove, he turned onto his back and kissed John properly, cradling his face and falling back over the comforter, bonelessly happy.

He didn't register John moving again at first, until he felt the slim cord of his necklace over his own head. Grant caught the key in a loose fist, the metal warm from the heat of their bodies, and looked at him.

"I don't want to cause you any more pain," John explained. "I'll tell my followers to leave the bunker alone for a few hours so you can get your colleague back."

The reality of the opposite sides they were on came back in full force, kicking the air out of his lungs.

"I... thank you."

John nodded dismissively, and Grant couldn't tell if it was a ruse or he truly didn't care up until he spoke again.

"Will you... stay, a while longer?" he asked, small and uncertain. Grant couldn't remember ever hearing John like that, and tears pricked at the edge of his eyelids as he recalled how scared he was of his rejection. Of his indifference.

"Yes, John. Of course I will."

John relaxed at that, smiling again, and curled by his side, head on his shoulder with a hand on his chest and a leg over his own.

Grant scooted even closer when he held him, trying with every fiber of his being to make up for the unfairness of the world that broke him as he kissed his forehead over and over again. He didn't know what tomorrow would hold for either of them, what excuse he had to come up with to explain how he acquired the key to John's bunker or the other Seeds' reaction to John fucking the enemy; the repercussions he would have to face within the Resistance if they ever found out...

But for now, with John dozing off in his arms, he didn't give a shit about anything else besides him.


End file.
